


Tales from the Bunker

by EllenOfOz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Ficlet Collection, Fluff in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Light Angst, M/M, Suptober 2020 (Supernatural), Tags In Each Chapter, background Eileen Lahey/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 8,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz
Summary: A collection of (mostly) unrelated canon verse ficlets posted during October for Suptober 2020. Some fluffy, some silly, some romantic, some sad, but all our boys.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 102
Kudos: 62





	1. on the road again

**Author's Note:**

> During the course of October I joined in with [Suptober](https://winchester-reload.tumblr.com/post/630515631381479424) and posted a bunch of ficlets, here collected as separate chapters. 
> 
> A huge thank you to Jackie / [winchester-reload](https://winchester-reload.tumblr.com/) for creating such an interesting prompt list and putting this entire event together.
> 
> And additional thanks to the wonderful [MalMuses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malmuses) for being my sounding board and general encourager all month, as well as everyone who liked and shared the tumblr posts. Thank you, I appreciate your support more than I can put into words ❤️

Dean lurches into consciousness, his heart beating rapidly as the tendrils of the dream release him slowly. 

He’d been back in hell, which wasn’t so unusual for a dream these days. What had made this one terrifying was that it had been Cas on the rack, choking on black goo, his limbs stretched out and… 

A firm body shifts behind him in the bed, removing the warm hand from his shoulder and rolling over to face the other way. Dean breathes a sigh, shaking his head slightly to clear it. 

A dream. It was just a dream. 

Cas is alive, not stabbed by Lucifer or lying on a funeral pyre. Dean doesn’t even want to think about where he’s been for the last few months, asleep in the Empty. The fact that he was sent back as a human is still puzzling Dean, but he’d told Sam they needed a win, and here he is, in all his trenchcoated, human glory. 

Dean lets go of his pillow and rolls over, wrapping his arm around Cas’ middle and tucking his face into the soft hair at the back of Cas’ neck. Their bare skin brushes together deliciously, and if Sam wasn’t about to wake them up in a short time to get back on the road, he might do something about the friction of skin against his ex-angel. But for now, he places a kiss to Cas’ neck, smiling at the soft, sleepy grunt he gets in return.

He’s not letting the guy out of his sight again, if he can help it. He’s lost enough. 


	2. earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean, hunter husbands, sassy.

Castiel is millions of years old. He watched the galaxies form, the stardust coalesce into stars and planets. He saw the Earth take shape from rock and gas, helped to guide it into place. 

He was there as his father created the creatures that would eventually become humans, and when the order came down to love them, to revere them, Castiel did. 

Years later, after an incursion into Hell that cost the lives of many of his siblings, he gripped the Righteous Man tight and raised him from Perdition, shoving his burning soul back into a mostly decomposed corpse and pumping it full of grace so that it could repair itself according to the genetic code still contained within its marrow and bone. He watched that restored human dig his way out of his own grave, his hands pushing through the earth and towards the sky. 

He has stood by that human’s side, protected him, died for him, even. And this—this is how he’s repaid for his steadfast loyalty? 

“Seriously, Cas,” Dean says, shutting the car door loudly behind him. “Agent Lizzo? _Lizzo_?" 

Castiel sometimes believes he’s got Dean worked out, that he knows how to best please him. Other times…? He feels constantly two steps behind. 

"You use rock aliases all the time, Dean. Lizzo is a gifted musician and—" 

"No one’s arguing with you there, dude,” Dean interrupts, starting the car with a bassy rumble. “Chick plays a mean flute or whatever. I just mean that if we’re gonna do this, keep working cases while we’re waiting for Chuck to show his face, we gotta keep a lower profile, okay? Maybe someone less…mainstream?”

Castiel calls on the patience of the ages, narrowing his eyes at Dean as he pulls out into the street. “Who do you suggest, then?”

“I dunno, Cas, I thought Meta-douche dumped his load into your galaxy brain, or some shit?” When Castiel continues to stare into the side of his head, Dean glances over quickly, then gestures at the glove box in front of Castiel’s knees. “Flick through the box of IDs in there. Sam’s got plenty.”

Castiel rolls his eyes again, reaching for the glove box. He may have been around for millennia, but has it all really been leading to this—being sassed by a mortal?

Some days, he really wonders. 


	3. demonic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remembering Crowley, a little melancholy

“You ever miss Crowley?” Sam asks, out of the blue.

Dean looks up from the book of warding spells he’s been trying not to fall asleep on for the last half hour. “Huh?”

Sam huffs, half a grin on his face. “Crowley? Y'know, kinda short British guy? King of Hell? Saved our asses?”

Dean gives Sam a flat look. “Yeah, thanks, I got it—and the answer’s no. I’m still kinda pissed at him for getting himself dead like he did.” He looks back to his book for a few moments, then adds, “Why, are _you_ missing him?”

Sam shrugs one of his huge moose-shoulders. “We could’ve used his help setting up this warding.”

Dean hmphs. He’s got a point—they’ve been researching ancient warding that might protect against divine beings for hours now, and so far, no dice. The chicken scratch on the page is murder on his eyes.

“It’s just that you had that whole ‘summer of love’ thing going on that one time.”

Dean looks back up, staring at his smirking brother again. “Yeah, when I was a _demon_.”

Dean hates to even think about that time, let alone talk about it with Sam. He’s always been grateful to Sam and Cas for all they did to bring him back, and he knows Crowley eventually helped as well, but the things he did…he’ll always be ashamed of them.

Sure, most of the time he’d been drunk off his face and down to fuck any willing body, including at least one time involving triplets that Dean would carefully remember now and then, blocking out the parts where Crowley was involved—the two girls and one guy had all been remarkably bendy, after all. And yes, most of the people he’d killed during that time had either been demons, or had deserved it on some level.

Except Sam. His attempt on Sam’s life, and later Cas’ when he was under the Mark’s influence, will both haunt him for the rest of his days. He’s spent a lot of the last few years trying to avoid being that creature after the Mark was gone.

He especially doesn’t like to examine how much he had actually enjoyed the freedom of it. A soul is a burden, even one as tarnished as his.

Sam shrugs again. “I dunno, he seemed pretty fond of you.”

Dean just hmphs again. Truth is, he does miss that sarcastic bastard. But what he did, giving his life to seal that rift? It still hurts. So he buries it again, and focuses on the sigils once more.

“How about you, Cas?” Sam asks, never content with leaving anything freaking alone.

“No.” Cas’ curt answer comes from the armchair in the corner near Dean, where he sits with his own pile of lore books.

Dean shares a raised-eyebrow look with Sam, before his brother breathes out a “hokay then” on a laugh.

The library falls silent.


	4. branded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little angst. The scene we didn't get in 9x06.

“Cas? Cas!” Dean says, aware of how desperate he sounds. 

The cuts criss-cross his skin where she tortured him, trickles of blood dried around each of them. He tries not to look at the hole in Cas’ chest, the fact blood isn’t pumping out of there, and what that might mean. Instead he focuses on a tattoo along the bottom of Cas’ ribs, a few lines of Enochian lettering. 

Cas’ head just flops to the side when Dean’s palm touches his face, and Dean’s heart does its best to crack into pieces. The sight of Cas without his suit and coat takes Dean back to another time, another reality, another Cas with his addictions and death wish. Panic rises, acid in his throat. 

He glances around to see Sam slumped against the wall, out cold. Where the fuck is Ezekiel? 

He stands back, holding his breath as the angel gets his brother to his feet, and the grace flares to life. 

~o~

Later, much later, after Dean sends Cas away at Ezekiel’s insistence, after Dean had sought Cas out at his shitty Gas ‘n’ Sip job that he seems so proud of, after his boss invited him to babysit rather than on a date, after the asshole death-angel Ephraim had come for Cas to relieve his pain—after all of that, Dean can’t contain his guilt any longer. 

He takes Cas to a diner to get a decent meal in him, one of those twenty-four-hour joints catering to truckers and insomniacs. Maybe he’s giving Cas his date after all, he thinks wryly as he watches the ex-angel eat, worry still burning in his own throat. 

“Cas, the tattoo on your side—it’s Enochian, right? That’s your warding against angels?" 

"Yes,” Cas replies around a mouthful of burger. He swallows before adding, “I got it soon after the fall, when I was being hunted.”

“So how did Ephraim find you?”

Cas looks wary as he picks the burger up again. “The Rit Zien sense pain. He came for Tanya.” His eyes flick away as he takes another bite. 

Dean doesn’t believe that coincidence for a second. “The kid? Come on, Cas, he knew you were there.” When Cas doesn’t elaborate, Dean continues quietly, “Being a human is messing you up isn’t it? Cas, I…I’m sorry I asked you to leave. You would have been safe in the bunker with us, we could have—" 

"It’s okay, Dean,” Cas interrupts, the kind acceptance in his face like a knife to Dean’s heart. “I found my way. And I’m doing okay. More or less.” He pauses, munching thoughtfully on a fry. “There’s something Ephraim said, though. The angels—they need help. I’ll keep an eye on the news and help where I can.”

Dean eyes him, wondering how this new human is still willing to help those who have treated him so badly. He learns forward, making sure Cas is looking at him. “You help by calling me okay? Call me if you need anything at all.” He stares pointedly at Cas until he nods. 

If he can’t have Cas near Sam, the least he can do is try to look after him here. Not for the first time, he regrets letting Ezekiel in, but if Sam’s gonna be okay then it’ll be worth it, right? 


	5. daydream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean being flustered while on a hunt.

Cas squatted down next to the fallen girl, checking her vitals. As his coat fell to the side, Dean got an eyeful of the way Cas’ trousers strained around his thigh, and his mouth suddenly ran dry. **  
**

“She’s alive,” the angel murmured, and Dean caught his breath as Cas’ hand lit up with bright-white grace, reflected in his eyes. 

“Dean?” Sam called from somewhere to his left, but Dean was caught in the glow that seemed to surround Cas as he healed the girl. 

The glow faded, and Cas looked up, his gaze meeting Dean’s. 

Dean couldn’t breathe, just stared for a few beats. 

“Dean!” Sam called again, insistent. 

When Dean shook his head and looked up, his brother was already heading into the other room, machete in hand. 

Fuck. Dean had to stop this daydreaming while in the middle of cases. He looked back to Cas, extending a hand to help him to his feet. Cas’ hand was warm, his grip on Dean firm. 

It wasn’t until Jack barrelled past, following after Sam, that Dean realized he hadn’t let go of Cas. He dropped Cas’ hand, feeling like an idiot for the warmth in his cheeks. 

Cas smiled softly. “It’s okay, Dean. She’ll be fine." 

Dean blinked at him for a moment. _She_? 

Cas glanced down at the vamps’ victim, still unconscious against the wall, before he swept past Dean, following the others. 

"Huh,” Dean breathed. The girl might be fine, but was he? He squared his shoulders and followed his angel.


	6. mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW get ready for a party, as part of a case. Romantic, fluffy, inspired by [Gio's beautiful piece for today](https://sketching-fox.tumblr.com/post/631279569042915328/suptober-2020-day-06-masks-ok-so-today-was).

“Who the hell came up with this idea?” Dean grumbles, pulling at the neckline of his dress shirt as he leans against the map table. 

“Uh, you did, I’m pretty sure,” Sam replies, scrolling through something on his phone as he waits. “Or maybe it was Cas.”

He felt like a class-A douchebag in this get-up—the last time he’d worn something this formal was at that party they’d been to with that chick who’d stolen the Colt from them, what, ten, twelve years ago? What was her name…? Bela, he remembers. He frowns at the memory.

The mask is hot against his face, but he can’t take it off or he might mess up his hair. Which, sue him, is absolutely a douchebag thought, but he needs it to look good.

He shifts impatiently in place, his freshly-shined shoes scuffing the concrete. “You sure we can’t just break in there and Ocean’s Eleven the thing?”

Sam sighs, not even looking up from Tiktok or whatever the hell the kids are on these days. His mostly brown and gold owl-eyed mask is pushed up on his head, keeping his L’Oreal hair out of his eyes. “Yes, Dean, I’m sure. We need to get into Lady Chester’s inner circle, and this ball is the best time to do it. We went over this.”

“But…the masks? This thing is freaking annoying.” He pulls the mask back from his skin to let a bit of air in. 

They’d spent ages at a costuming store this afternoon, deciding which masks to hire for the night. Dean’s was devil-shaped, covered in red fabric with horns curving up from each side. He’d laughed when he saw it, but taken it anyway for the irony of the thing. And if he happened to think the red diamantes decorating the edges were pretty, he’d never breathe a word to the others.

What the hell’s taking Cas so long, though? Dean glances up at a movement at the door to the living quarters.

Cas walks out tentatively, wearing…

Dean gulps, getting to his feet. Cas isn’t wearing the trenchcoat anymore, and the sight is flatlining Dean’s brain. The bowtie at Cas’ throat is blue, and the black tuxedo fits him in a way his old navy suit just…doesn’t. It’s tighter at the shoulders and the waist, and as Dean’s eyes travel upwards he has to force himself to shut his gaping mouth. 

Cas’ mask is white, with feathers splayed to each side of his face. Blue diamantes sparkle on either side, and the whole package together with Cas’ own blue eyes is seriously making Dean wonder if he woke up at all this morning, or if this is some kind of dream. 

“There you are,” he breathes, not sure what else to say. 

Cas smiles nervously, holding his hands out to the sides. “How does it look?”

Dean crosses the room in two strides, carefully takes Cas’ jaw in both hands and plants a kiss on him, as Cas rocks back in surprise. Dean still can’t believe that he and Cas had taken so long to get to the point of doing this, but damn, if he hasn’t tried to tell his boyfriend that he looked beautiful at every opportunity over the last few months they’ve been together. 

A cleared throat behind them pulls Dean out of his increasing need to get Cas out of these pretty clothes.

“Uh, guys? We kinda do need to go to this party first?” Sam says, heading for the bunker stairs.

Dean pulls back, gazing into Cas’ sparkling eyes. “We’re not taking these back, okay?”

Cas just smiles fondly, and pulls Dean’s hand to follow Sam out of the bunker.


	7. 9: electric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampires on a hunt. All action.

Dean gasped for air, the vamp’s elbow crushing his windpipe as it pressed him into the wooden wall of the lakehouse. If he could just keep the asshole occupied for a little longer, the guy wouldn’t be able to get his fangs into him.

Not for the first time today, the thought crossed his mind that he was getting too old for this crap. His back wasn’t as flexible as it used to be, no matter how many times Cas might heal up his aches and pains.

Where the hell was the angel, anyway?

The vamp hissed at him as he bared his fangs, and Dean kicked out at him as his vision started to go fuzzy at the edges. His foot connected with meat, and the pressure on his throat eased as the vamp bent over, clutching at his jewels.

“Yeah, take that, you bloodsucking bitch.”

Dean could hear shouts from the other room—Cas was in there somewhere, getting thrown around by someone or other.

A quiet weekend, by the lake, just the three of them while Jack stayed with Jody. Was that too much to ask? Naturally there had to be a fucking vampire nest just down the shoreline. Could they ever catch a break?

He lunged for the machete, where it had been kicked to the side of the room across the worn floorboards. Before he could grab it, the vamp grabbed him by the back of his coat and threw him aside, smacking him roughly back into the wall. Something cracked alarmingly in the wall, and a spike of blinding pain knifed through Dean’s shoulder.

Dean blinked up at the vamp preparing to launch at him, but instead, the guy cried out and fell to the rough boards, twitching and shuddering.

Dean’s gaze followed two springs leading from the vamp’s back to where Sam stood in the doorway, a small black device in one hand.

“A taser? Seriously?” Dean reached over to retrieve his machete, gingerly testing his arm.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Sam called as he turned to deal with someone in the hallway behind him.

Dean huffed. He’d would never admit it, but now and then his brother’s random ideas were actually pretty fucking brilliant.

He hefted his machete, and went in for the kill.


	8. 10: sweet rides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean as kids. John Winchester's A+ parenting (and Bobby's actual gold star parenting). Sads (sorry).

John Winchester pulls into Singer Salvage, letting the car’s rumbling engine die.

Sam pushes the heavy car door, still trying not to slam it, before the three of them walk up to the porch.

Bobby stands there, waiting. “John,” Bobby says by way of greeting.

Sam’s father grins as he shakes Bobby’s hand. “How’re you doing, Bobby?”

“Gettin’ by,” Bobby says gruffly, then looks down at Dean and Sam, standing a step behind their father. “You puttin’ fertilizer under these boys’ beds or something? They’re gettin’ big.”

“Sam turned six just last week, didn’t you, boy?” their dad says, sounding a lot happier about Sam’s birthday than he had last week when he had given Sam a packet of M&Ms as a present.

Sam steps behind Dean slightly. Wasn’t like turning six was much of a big deal.

“Six, huh?” Bobby sounds impressed. “Well, uh, you kids might like to take a look out back. I picked up something y'all might like.”

Dean and Sam share a glance and run through the house, out the back door. Two bikes are leaning against the back porch, one big enough to fit Dean’s taller frame, and the other smaller. Both are rusty and look like they might fall apart, but Dean’s smile is wide as he checks them out.

Dean immediately jumps on his and takes off across the salvage yard, shouting excitedly, “Come on, Sammy!”

Sam eyes the bike dubiously. He has no idea how Dean already knows how to ride his, but Sam doesn’t. “I…I can’t,” he says, mostly to himself.

Dean doubles back and says as he approaches, “Guess you haven’t learned yet, huh. Just try, it’s easy!” With a grin he rides off again.

Sam straddles the bike and tries pushing off, getting his feet on the pedals like Dean’s are, but he just wobbles back and forth and doesn’t actually go anywhere. He huffs in frustration, and nearly falls right off when he can’t get the pedals to move.

When Dean comes back this time, he drops his bike and comes to stand behind Sam’s. “I’ll give you a push, don’t worry.”

This time when Sam starts off, he wobbles back and forth, but gets up a bit of speed as Dean holds onto the back of the bike. “That’s it, you’re getting it! Keep going!”

The wind ruffles Sam’s hair, and as he speeds down the lane between the wrecked cars, he feels just for a moment like he’s flying. He lets out a whoop, and hears Dean’s laugh…from a distance.

Sam turns around to see Dean well behind him, running along after with a smile on his face. Panic seizes him—he’s pedaling on his own! He turns back to the front, eyes wide, and the handlebars wobble.

He’s not sure what happens, but his front tire runs over a patch of gravel and before he knows it, he’s on the ground, the bike crashing to the dirt beside him.

“Jesus christ, Sammy! You all right?” Dean is on him in a flash, checking him over as Sam’s hot tears well up and spill over, no matter how hard he tries to hold them in. He sits up, but gasps at a sting on his leg—he’s done something to his knee and blood is welling up on a graze there.

Dean squats beside him, checking the wound. “Don’t worry, it’s just a graze. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Sam shakes his head, his breathing coming in hiccups. Oh, that hurt.

Dean breathes a relieved sigh. “Damn, you’re lucky. Scared the crap outta me.”

“Did not. You’re never scared ‘a anything.” Sam wipes tears onto his sleeve.

“Not true,” Dean says, “Everyone gets scared sometimes.”

Sam sniffs, looking dubiously down at the blood trickling down his leg.

Dean claps him on the shoulder, before getting back to his feet. “Mom used to say we had angels watchin’ over us. So when I’m scared, I just think of that.”

Sam struggles back to his feet, still frowning. He hates when Dean starts talking about their mom like that, all sad and whatever. It’s unfair that he never knew her, and all he wants is to know more, even though it hurts. All he’s got is what Dean and Dad have told him, and that’s not much.

“Dad’s gonna kill me,” he says quietly, dreading the thought of going back inside.

Dean doesn’t say anything for a moment, and when Sam looks up at him, his brother looks upset as well. “Don’t worry, Dad’s going on a hunt. He’s leaving us here with Bobby, so he won’t know about your knee. It’ll probably be better by the time he gets back.”

Sam’s heart falls. “He’s leaving us again?”

“Yup,” Dean says, picking up the bike again and spinning the handlebars to the right direction. “C’mon Sammy, let’s try again. You rode most of the way across here on your own! Third time’s the charm.”


	9. 11: rock 'n' roll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean & Cas in season 15. Hopeful.

Cas follows Dean into Betty’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Diner, allowing the door to swing shut behind him with a cheerful jingling. The place is bright and busy, with cheerful music barely audible over the chatter.

Dean beams as he takes it in. “Check this out, Cas! Bit o’ Buddy Holly, and reviews said best burgers in the county!” His enthusiasm is infectious as he adds, “There’s a table.”

Cas can’t help but feel uneasy, though. As he sits down, sliding into one side of a booth, he leans forward to murmur, “Dean, this place is making me uncomfortable.”

“What? Why?” Dean asks, looking up in surprise. 

“It’s a lot like Charming Acres.” At Dean’s blank look, he continues, “You know, where Sam went crazy and started wearing a cardigan?”

“Oh right, yeah…with the psycho psychic guy who thought he was God. Right?” His grin drops. “Wait, you serious?” he adds, looking around nervously. 

Castiel follows his gaze, eyeing the patrons sitting at other tables. While there are a few milkshakes, many of the other diners are looking at cellphones, or wearing modern graphic t-shirts and jeans. 

He breathes a sigh of relief. “No, I’m almost certain these people aren’t about to wish us harm for saying ‘H-E-double-hockey-sticks.’”

Dean’s grin returns. “Tell you what, just to be on the safe side, I won’t order a milkshake, okay?” He squeezes Cas’ forearm where it sits on the table between them, making warmth bloom in Cas’ chest for a moment, before he returns to reading the menu. 

Cas glances at his own menu, but he’s not sure he wants to eat. His grace might be disappearing, but he’s not so far gone that food is tasting good just yet. He could order pie, but it would just taste like raspberry molecules. 

Other human traits, though…he looks back up at Dean. 

Castiel’s emotions have been all over the place for months, there’s nothing new there. His deep anger at Dean’s treatment of Jack and the whole Chuck situation was hard enough to deal with, but since they got back from purgatory the second time and Jack’s soul was restored, Cas has found himself less and less sure of his place in the world. Dean says he’s forgiven him, but did he really mean it when he said Cas is his “best friend”?

And is it really fair of Cas to be still wishing for a little more, after all these years?

“We should do this more often,” Dean says after he gives his order to the perky server in the rockabilly skirt. 

Cas throws him a squinted look. “Dean, we eat at diners all the time. Jack loves the food in these places. Besides, how many more chances do you think we’ll get to do this before we find Chuck and Amara?”

“I guess so, jeez, dude,” Dean replies with a wry chuckle. “I mean just the two of us. After all this is over, provided there are still diners to eat at, we should go out for dinner more often, that’s all I’m sayin’." 

And just like that, Cas’ world clicks into place. Dean wants him to stick around. More than that, he won’t push for, but for now, Dean’s picture of the future includes Cas. A tightness he’s been carrying around for longer than he cares to remember eases, and he finally breathes. Hope kindles in its place.

Perhaps he will order the pie, after all. 


	10. 12: rewind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15.03 coda, post break up. Angsty (I'm sorry!).

Castiel steps out of the bunker, shutting the door behind him with a clang. He stands in the fresh October air for a few moments, trying to slow his breathing. He’s still an angel, damn it—he doesn’t strictly need to breathe, but the compulsion is there. Especially after what just happened.

Rubbing one hand over his face, he heads up the stairs, then puts his hands into his coat pockets as he walks along the lane towards where his truck is parked.

He takes stock of his pocket’s contents: Jimmy’s wallet with Charlie’s credit card, a shiny piece of quartzite that Jack had once given him, his truck’s keys, and a beaten up cassette tape with “DEaNS TOP 13 ZEPP TRAXX” written on it.

He never listens to the tape anymore these days. The truck he drives now has a CD player, and the battered old tape player he’d picked up at an op shop needs new batteries.

Besides, listening to the songs hurts, with the way they remind him of Dean.

When Dean had first given him the tape, he’d listened over and over, rewinding each time and hoping the flimsy plastic and magnetic film would hold together. He’d learned the words, would hum along, but never in front of Dean. The music had been sacred, something to hold close when he was away from the bunker. When he’s near Dean, his bright sound drowns out the songs.

But he won’t be hearing that any longer.

He regrets not saying goodbye to Sam before he leaves, but he needs to get out of there before he loses his nerve. The raw anger on Dean’s face, the hurt when he realised Cas really meant it this time—that’s going to stick with him for a long time.

But ultimately, he can’t stay. Doesn’t want to when he’s not needed.

He sighs, trying to let go of his anger as he climbs into his truck and starts her up, heading away from Lebanon.


	11. 14: fun and games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is confused by his dads. Dean is flustered (again).

Jack’s family baffles him sometimes. **  
**

The foosball table in the “Dean Cave” is Jack’s favourite, and even Cas will allow his arm to be twisted into playing now and then. 

But this time when he agrees, Dean’s eyes light up and he’s on his feet and at the table quicker than Jack’s ever seen him move. He insists on standing opposite Cas, and they argue long and loud as they play about _interference_ and _angel strength_ and _obstruction_. Sam huffs his irritation at them so many times that eventually Dean turns his accusations on his brother, even though they’re on the same team. 

The whole thing makes Jack laugh, at least to start with, but he grows gradually more concerned as the game goes on. They’re not _really_ mad at each other, are they? 

Even when the game is over and Jack and Cas win, Dean flops back into the sofa with an indifferent “Whatever,” but spends the next half hour smiling softly when he thinks no one’s looking. 

The whole thing weighs on Jack’s mind until later, when he walks past Dean in the corridor. “Dean, can I ask you something? 

Dean sounds surprised when he answers, "Sure, kid. What’s up?”

Jack walks into his bedroom, shifting his laptop out of the way as he sits on his bed. 

Dean follows, leaning in the doorway. 

“Earlier, when we were playing foosball…” Jack begins, pausing as he gathers his thoughts. “You weren’t really angry with Cas, were you?”

“What?” Dean says, incredulous. He walks across the room until he can perch on the end of Jack’s bed. “No, of course not.”

“But you’re always arguing with each other. We’re a family, we’re supposed to love each other.”

Dean chokes out a cough for a moment, before he clears his throat and croaks, “We…we do. Of course we do. It was just a bit of healthy, uh…teasing, y'know?”

“Does he know?" 

Dean stares at Jack. "Know? Know what?" 

"That you love him?” Jack asks, watching the way Dean’s ears tinge red. “Sam told me, with the world the way it is right now, we have to make sure we tell each other. Because we might be running out of time.”

Dean’s pink blush has spread to his neck and cheeks now. “That’s, uh…that’s kinda morbid, but…probably true.”

Jack opens the laptop beside him. “So you should go tell him." 

Dean blinks at Jack. "What, right now?" 

"Okay,” Jack replies with a shrug and a sunny grin. Putting the laptop to one side, he starts to get up from his bed, but Dean holds up his hands as though to stop him. 

“Nah, that’s okay, buddy. You just sit tight. I’ll go…go tell ‘im." 

"Oh,” Jack says, sitting back on the bed and picking up the laptop. “Okay. Night Dean. Love you!" 

Dean stands up, smiling to himself as he heads for the door. "Love you too, buddy. Night,” he says, closing the door behind him. 

Jack stares after him. Honestly, Jack’s dads are so confusing. 

He shakes his head and fires up the laptop.


	12. 13/15: ladies and third eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patience is practising her visions, and sees something interesting about Dean. Wayward ladies and Jack.

It happens when they’re sitting around Jody’s table.

“Do me, do me!” Jack says, grinning excitedly at Patience.

Patience smiles fondly at the kid, before closing her eyes.

Dean walks over with his serving plate of potatoes and carrots. He eyes Patience and Jack, then asks Claire through a mouthful of vegetables, “What’s she doin’?”

Claire curls her lip at his chewed up carrot.

Kaia is the one who answers, from her place beside Claire. “Patience’s working on trying to direct her visions. This,” she waves at the eyes-closed humming Patience is currently doing, “is supposedly helping to open her third eye, or something.”

“Okay,” Dean says, dumping the bowl of food on the table and sitting on the chair next to Claire. He watches as Patience opens her eyes, looks at Jack…and squints, bringing up her hand in front of her face, like she’s looking into the sun.

“S-sorry, Jack,” she says, “all I can see is…is golden light. It’s just colours.”

Dean recalls the atheist psychic a few years ago, who’d told Cas he couldn’t possibly be an angel, and he chuckles.

“Hey,” Claire says, getting Patience’s attention. “Do him.” She hooks a thumb towards Dean.

Dean stares at her thumb, then looks to Patience. “Who, me? Nah, that’s cool,” he chuckles, “you don’t need to—”

“Oh…holy crap,” Patience says, her eyes wide. “Dean, you…you…”

Dean glances at Claire for a moment, before he looks back to Patience, who’s still staring at him in a way that seems as though she’s looking right through him. Dean shifts in his seat nervously. “What? What is it?”

“You’re… _kissing_ someone!” Patience gasps out.

“I’m—” Dean has to admit, that’s the last thing he’s expecting to hear. Exactly what is Patience seeing here? He huffs a laugh, hoping he sounds more devil-may-care and less it’s-been-a-while-tell-me-more.

“Is this the future, or are you looking back, or—?” He hopes she’s not going to see much more, because what often comes after kissing is between him and whatever hook-up Patience is seeing here.

“She said it was a possible future, right?” Kaia says. At Claire’s nod, Kaia adds, “Can you see who it is?”

Patience gasps again. “It’s…it’s—”

She’s interrupted by Cas and Sam walking into the room, carrying more plates of food. Patience looks up and sees Cas, and her eyes get even wider before she closes her mouth, looking down at her plate.

Everyone is silent for a few moments, until Claire asks incredulously, “Wait, it was _him_?” She points at Cas, who now squints in confusion as he places the large plate he’s carrying on the table.

Kaia and Jack both make delighted noises, but Dean is paralysed.

“What? No. He—I—” he begins, but can’t seem to get anything out past the terror in his throat. He and Cas? It isn’t possible, could never happen. And that fantasy is carefully locked away, tucked into the back of his mind. At least he thought it had been.

That didn’t seem to stop Claire crowing as she gripped Kaia’s shoulder, saying with a laugh, “I fucking knew it!” She turns to Cas, adding, “Hey, Cas, come take this seat, next to Dean.” She leers at Dean as she says this, then gets up to move around to another seat as Cas sits down with murmured thanks.

Dean is sure his face must be flaming as Cas turns to him, one eyebrow raised. The girls and Jack all start giggling, until Sam says, “What the hell?” and they all shut up, trying to keep straight faces.

Dean grimaces. He’s never gonna hear the end of this.


	13. 17: autumn invading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas work a case. Kinda cute.

Dean stands outside the entrance to the school, comparing notes with the local sheriff. Cas interviews one of the witnesses a short distance away, under trees red and gold with the touch of fall.

“We’re really not sure how the deceased got in this position,” the sheriff says, pulling Dean’s attention back from where he’d been admiring the sight of Cas standing among drifting leaves, comforting the distraught student with his big hand on her shoulder.

He blinks at the sheriff, until she continues, “We thought some kind of maintenance platform or long ladder, but to carry body weight as well as climbing a ladder? That’s quite a feat.”

Dean chides himself. Focus, focus. “It sure is. We’ll be able to discover who’s responsible for this and bring ‘em in, don’t worry.” This is the second murder on the grounds in as many weeks, and the students are starting to panic. From what Cas and Dean have seen, though, there’s definitely a vengeful spirit involved.

He glances back towards Cas, who catches his eye and raises his eyebrows in a “you done?” kind of a way. Dean nods back to him, smiling despite himself, as he nods his head towards where the car is parked on the opposite side of the parking lot.

When he turns back to the sheriff, she’s eyeing him curiously. “So you guys are like… _partners_ partners, as well as work partners?”

Dean chokes out a laugh, glancing back over his shoulder at Cas. “Uh, no, ma'am. The bureau doesn’t allow partners to work together.”

“Oh, my apologies. Just the way you both…” She trails off, her eyes still on the angel. Looking back to Dean, she continues, “Never mind. Did you get everything you needed?”

“Think so, yeah. If anything else comes up, you’ve got my number.” He grins easily at her, a little taken aback by the wink she gives him.

“Sure do.”

Under different circumstances he might have admired the way the sheriff’s hips sway as she walks away, might swing back by the sheriff’s office once this case is done. These days, though, he has other plans.

Cas joins him on the way back to the car, saying, “It seems the ghost of the teacher is hanging around the gym.”

“Seems so,” Dean agrees, “although how does a ghost have enough juice to pick up a guy and hang him up on a storage hook by his…underthings?”

“Well, he’d lost a lot of blood first, I’m sure he was a little lighter.”

Dean shrugs as they approach the car. “Guess we just hit the cemetery later. Got a bit of time to kill until then, though,” he added, landing a slap on Cas’ butt. Grinning, he turns to open the driver’s side door.

And suddenly he has the body weight of an angel pressing into his back, pinning him against the hard metal as a voice like sun-heated marble growls in his ear, “I can think of a few ways to fill it.”

A shudder runs right through Dean as Cas removes himself from Dean’s back. “Fuck, yes,” he mutters as he brushes himself down, checking over his shoulder to make sure the sheriff hadn’t seen that.

When he looks back to his baby’s open window, though, he stops in his tracks. The driver’s seat is covered in a scattered drift of golden leaves. “Oh, come on,” he says, opening the door and cursing as leaves cascade out.


	14. 18/19 pour one out & dark and stormy night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean pours one out for Bobby on a dark and stormy night. Part 1 of 2.

Rain lashed the windows, and somewhere overhead, lightning rumbled and crashed. Outside, the world was all water and wind, but right here, inside whatever the hell this place was called, Dean Winchester did not give a fuck. **  
**

Throwing back the end of his whiskey, he ordered up a row of tequila shots for his new friends—a group of college students who’d adopted the random old guy when he started buying them drinks. He’d only come here in the first place because it was eight years since they’d lost Bobby. He hadn’t told Sam why he was going, only that he was, and he’d already poured one out alone before he’d gotten bored.

Dean’s new friends cheered as they licked salt and downed their shots, but the lemon wedge dropped from Dean’s mouth as the door of the bar was flung open, a figure momentarily silhouetted by a bright flash of lightning. 

The man walked into the bar, rainwater dripping off his tan coat, his dark hair spiked in wet disarray, yet his face was dry save for the lightest of raindrops on his eyelashes.

The murderous look on his face had probably chased the raindrops away. 

Castiel, angel of the Lord, stopped once he was inside the door, looking around carefully, and only moved forward again when he spied Dean sitting in the booth just near the door. 

Dean sank down in his seat. Even well on his way to being blackout drunk, he could see that the angel was ready to smite someone, and he didn’t really wanna get smitten…smote? Whatever.

“Heeeey, Cas!” he said, trying to pull together some shred of dignity. “Come have a drink with us!” 

Castiel’s frown deepened as he took in the other people around the booth. 

Dean tried to subtly shuffle away from the young guy who’d been leaning into his space. He’d been enjoying the attention, of course, but he never would have…

“It’s time to go, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was like the slamming of a crypt door, and even though Dean was keen to not appear whipped in front of these kids, he was honestly powerless to resist. 

As they stumbled out into the rain, Cas put up an umbrella he’d been carrying somewhere under that cavernous coat of his, and Dean leaned into him heavily. “You should…shoulda stayed for a bit, Cas. They were nice…nice people,” he slurred, his boots splashing into a puddle.

“Sam told me you’d been there all night. We’ve got a case to work tomorrow, Dean.” 

Cas sounded disappointed, and Dean couldn’t have that. He leaned further in, planting a smooch on Cas’ cheek. “I’ll be fiiiine,” he said. “Thanks for rescuin’ me, man.”

Cas just grunted as they stumbled on through the dark night towards the motel.


	15. 22: I cursed the gloom that set upon us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of 2 (from previous chapter). Dean and Cas. Lyrics from 'The Rain Song' by Led Zeppelin.

“I cursed the gloom that set upon us, ‘pon us, ‘pon us, but I know that I love you so…”

Dean’s discordant singing set Castiel’s teeth on edge as he almost dragged his inebriated friend down the street, one hand holding an umbrella aloft, the other tucked around Dean’s waist to try to keep him upright. He recognised the lyrics from the mixtape Dean had given him a few years ago—the one he carried around in his coat pocket.

Sam had tried to dissuade him from going after Dean in the storm, told Cas to leave him to “let off steam”. And Cas would have been more than happy to let him, would have let him drink himself into oblivion, might even have been willing to keep watch over him as he stumbled his way back to the motel and into bed, eventually.

The trouble was, Dean’s thoughts were loud. Cas had been trying to look into the murders they were in town to investigate, but as the night went on, Dean’s longing grew more obvious, until he was almost praying to Castiel in actual words. The prayer hadn’t felt urgent, but eventually Cas had given up on his research and marched down the street through the rain and wind, only to see Dean surrounded by pretty young things and drunk off his face.

He wasn’t proud of the jealousy that had ripped through him. He should have known better, especially since he knew Dean had been thinking of him off and on all evening. But a possessive feeling had roared through him, and now they were on their way back to the motel, for better or worse.

But as they reached the corner of the motel building, Dean stopped, bringing Cas to a halt beside him. “Wait, wait…”

Before Cas could ask him what the matter was, Dean had pushed him against the brick wall, leaning in to run his lips across the stubble under Cas’ jaw. The sensation created a shiver down Cas’ back, a wholly unfamiliar reaction that he never knew his vessel was even capable of.

“Mm, angel, I’ve missed this,” Dean murmured, pressing his body hard against Cas’.

This was the first time they’d been close like this since Cas had walked out, since even before Michael had taken Dean. Cas hadn’t been sure if he’d even want to go back to this, but as always, Dean knew exactly how to get past Cas’ every defense.

“Dean, stop, you’re drunk.”

“And?” Dean’s voice was rough.

“And it’s raining.” Even though Cas still held the umbrella awkwardly over them, the storm still raged, gusts swirling around them.

Dean hummed, kissing a path back up to Castiel’s lips. He sang quietly as he stared into Cas’ eyes, “Just a little rain, oh…” His kiss was surprisingly gentle, but quickly escalated into deeper kisses that tasted like whiskey and something sour…lemon, Castiel thought.

As their lips touched again, Cas let a whisper of grace curl into Dean, burning away the alcohol in his bloodstream, reversing the ill effects on his body.

“Hoooly shit, Cas, what did you do? I feel like I might float away!” Dean breathed, his eyes still closed as he leaned his forehead against Cas’.

“I needed you coherent for this,” Cas said quietly, and Dean pulled back to look him in the eyes, even though he surely couldn’t see much in this gloom. Castiel continued, “I can’t…I won’t do this, if you’re just going to—”

“Stop,” Dean interrupted him. “I told you, I should never have let you go. I should have asked you to stay with us. With…with me.”

Now Castiel felt like he was the one drifting away, although Dean’s hands on his shoulder and jaw kept him grounded. “Thank you, Dean,” he breathed, and closed the distance between them again.


	16. 26: walk of shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saileen and Destiel, bunker fluff.

Sam trod as lightly as he could on the stairs down from the garage, but the bunker sounded deserted. Usually, he was the only one up this early in the a.m.—if he was lucky, everyone would still be asleep, and he could hurry into his room and avoid the walk of shame, and the teasing that would come with it.

Not that he was ashamed, of course. His date with Eileen had been a lot of fun—they didn’t have a lot of dinner options in Lebanon, but they’d gone a little further afield to a great pizza place he and Dean often ordered from.

Even better had been the night they’d spent in Eileen’s motel room, worshipping each other’s bodies…but he needed to get back into his room first before he started dwelling on _that_.

Perhaps he would just grab a drink before he headed to his room. The light was on in the kitchen, but that was nothing new—Sam was always turning lights off around here, since Dean tended to leave them all on. As he got closer, he heard a muffled laugh, a plate clinking. Someone was awake, after all? A murmured voice—that was definitely Dean. Had he brought someone here?

Rather than walking into the kitchen, he peeked around the door and nearly gasped aloud.

Dean was sitting on the edge of the table, looking sleep-rumpled in sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, while Castiel stood between his spread legs, fully clothed, trenchcoat and all. As Sam watched, Cas picked up a strawberry from a plate of what looked like pancakes on the table, and with one hand on Dean’s cheek, placed the berry into Dean’s mouth. Dean hummed his appreciation, and Cas leaned down to kiss Dean’s smiling mouth.

Sam leapt back around the corner, suddenly wishing he hadn’t looked. He did not need to see his brother and his best friend making out, nuh uh.

He grinned to himself as he headed off towards his room, though. He was happy for them, for finally working out whatever was between them. He just needed to get a solid door behind him, and quickly, before they started getting too gross.


	17. 27/28: banquet and hellscape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW and Dean's worst nightmare. Silly to finish with.

“All you can eat, Sammy.”

Sam levels Dean with a patented bitch face. “Yes, Dean, I heard you the first fifteen times.”

Dean pulls the car until a park near the back of the lot, letting the engine rumble to a stop. “Yeah, but…I can eat a lot. Eh, Cas?” he throws over his shoulder with a grin as he opens the door. 

Dean hears Cas huff from the back seat as he climbs out, and he chuckles to himself. He doesn’t have to see the angel to know he’s rolling his eyes. He waits for Sam, Jack and Cas to shut their doors before he locks the car, and they all turn to head into the hotel. 

“I’m fucking starved,” Dean says as they walk across the parking lot.

Sam nods. “Yeah, me too. You want to go grab something right away?”

“Not just something, Sammy. Everything.”

It’s been so long since they’ve had a bit of comfort on the road, and there’s no way Dean is gonna share a room with Sam or Jack tonight when all he wants is to curl up with his angel, so he’s booked two rooms in this place—a three star hotel. It’s the end of the world, after all—why not splash out a bit? 

Besides, the restaurant here has a buffet. The website had been quite specific: _All You Can Eat Tuesdays For Just $15!!_ Dean has been looking forward to this all day, in between chasing down a ghoul just outside of town.

The restaurant is strangely quiet as they walk into the hotel building. Dean was expecting it to be buzzing with activity, but there’s only a few people scattered around. He walks up to one of the staff—a young woman carrying plates towards the kitchen. 

“Excuse me? Hi,” he says, smiling disarmingly. “Your, uh…’All You Can Eat’ thing is on tonight, right?”

The girl gives an apologetic kind of smile. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s been a problem in the kitchen and we’ve lost power. What you see on the salad bar is all we’ve got, I’m afraid.”

Dean spins and stares in horror at the hellscape before him. The “salad bar” is full to the brim with different types of salads, but where’s the hot pasta, the pizza? The fried chicken the website had promised him?

He spins to call out to the server again, “Wait, wait a second, what about the…the desserts? There’s supposed to be five types of pie!” 

The girl stops just before she reaches the kitchen door, turning to say, “Oh no, we couldn’t keep the desserts cold so we had to cancel the order. The fridges aren’t working, you know?” She scurries away into the kitchen.

Dean’s world tilts on its axis around him. No meat, no pasta, no pie. Only salad as far as the eye can see. This is some kind of new apocalypse.

He shakes his head. “Nope. No way. Cas? We’re going.” Spinning on his heel, he heads for the door.

“Where are we going?” Cas asks, catching up with him across the room. 

Dean turns, scowling at the salad bar. “Sam and Jack can stay here and eat this rabbit food. We’re gonna find meat, and pie. Hopefully plenty of beer as well. C’mon.” 

He sweeps out the door, bemused angel in tow.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed these ficlets, would you consider sharing? Here's a [rebloggable tumblr post](https://ellen-of-oz.tumblr.com/post/633648383848054784/ellens-suptober-masterlist), or [a tweet to share](https://twitter.com/Ellen_of_Oz/status/1323133553283006464?s=20). Thank you!


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